


DA:I One Shots

by PointyEaredWench



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 02:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2565755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PointyEaredWench/pseuds/PointyEaredWench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one shots featuring characters from Dragon Age:Inquisition, mostly romantic in nature. Will change/add tags as needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DA:I One Shots

_Prompt: If Solas gave your Inquisitor a gift, what would it be?_

 

She sits on the stone steps of the keep, trying to rub the knots out of her neck.  It’s been a very long day in a string of very long days, and as the sky softens into peach and pink above her, she can think of little but peeling off her armor and finding a soft place to lie very, very still.

“Inquisitor?”

His voice, as warm and soft as the featherbed she longs for, pulls her from her thoughts.  Despite her weariness, her mouth curves into a smile.  She has come to count on his presence, the calm, quiet steadiness of it, though she doubts he knows. His eyes, the blue of the sky at morning, meet her own.  She sees his concern, wishes she had the nerve to ask whether it means he shares what she has begun to feel for him, and brushes it aside.  It isn’t the right time. It never seems to be.

“Yes, Solas?  What is it?”

He tilts his head slightly to one side, assessing her. She can never escape the certainty that he sees more than any of them, and certainly more than she wants him to. The Herald is meant to be more than a skinny mortal elf whose body aches sometimes right down to her very bones. Who would follow her if they knew just how much she doubted herself? But he shows no pity, no disgust. There is only a curious sense of hesitation. From the confident elven apostate, this is new. Her brow creases.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. No, not at all.”  He stands just out of reach, long and lean and sharp-featured.  She has seen him on the battlefield, knows how quickly he can move, whirling his staff with a deadly grace that even a seasoned rogue like herself can envy. Now, though, he is utterly still, coiled tension waiting…for what?

“I’ve brought you something,” he finally says.  “A small thing. When I came across it earlier, it occurred to me that you, of all people, might enjoy it. But…perhaps you’ll find it a burden. These have been difficult days.”

“For us all,” she says gently. She refuses to have her burden spoken of as though it is somehow heavier than her companions’, when the thankless task of keeping her alive so often falls to them. But he has pricked her curiosity, a welcome distraction from her aches and pains. “A gift?” She smiles, nose wrinkling with pleasure. “What have you brought me? I don’t even remember the last time someone gave me a gift! Let me see!” She hops to her feet as though fresh from a good rest, surprising him into a rare laugh. His eyes meet hers, and for just a moment she thinks she sees her own heart reflected back at her. Then he’s looking away, his high cheekbones stained lightly pink.

“Whenever we’re in the woods, you never fail to mention--“

The fur at his collar moves, separating itself from him, yawning and stretching as it blinks its shining black eyes. She stops, startled.  “What in the world?”

When its enormous ears prick up, she begins to laugh, understanding at last what he’s brought her. The hard knot of tension between her shoulders melts away, replaced by something warm and welcome that floods every part of her being.

“A fennec!” She makes a delighted sound that has the little creature blinking uncertainly at her. Solas laughs again, cheeks even pinker. She has never seen him quite like this. She hopes it isn’t the only time she will. He reaches up to unwind the little creature from his neck, and it melts at his touch, allowing him to cradle it in his arms like a babe. She moves in to hover, wanting desperately to hold it herself, unsure of whether she should try. Solas strokes it beneath its chin, and it wiggles its paws in the air, clearly enamored of him. She reaches out, lightly stroking the fur on its chest, its ears. It wriggles beneath her touch, seeming to enjoy it. She looks up, into oceanic blue. He’s been watching her, tiny lines at the corners of eyes wrinkled with pleasure.

“He refused to let me alone on my walk. I’ve little to entertain such a busy creature, but you…you’re a bit like him, I think. Small and clever and—”

“Not furry, I hope,” she interjects, flattered enough that her own cheeks begin to burn.

“No,” he says, the word as soft as his smile.  “I’ve been calling him Wisp. He’s as fast and silent as a Fade spirit, and just as difficult to get rid of when he wants to be. But if you’ve another name—”

“No, Wisp is perfect,” she says, and means it. Gently, Solas eases the little creature into her arms, and then her hands are full of warm, soft fur, a steady heartbeat, a single, small life that means more to her than she could have imagined. The fennec has had enough of being babied, clambering up onto her shoulder as though it has known and trusted her all its life. She does not know what magic this is, or if it’s magic at all…but in her happiness, she is hard pressed to care. When it licks at her cheek with its tiny tongue, she laughs, reaching up to stroke between its ears.

“It’s the perfect gift. Really,” she says. “I love him.”

As she stays close to Solas, she finally sees the way he glances at her, sweet and uncertain as they fuss over her new companion. And she wonders for the first time whether those three words might come to mean a great deal more to her, and to him, until they become something wild and wonderful and new, big enough to wrap around them both.


End file.
